


Skin Stars

by catranching



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-01
Updated: 2014-04-01
Packaged: 2018-01-17 20:30:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1401475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catranching/pseuds/catranching
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is dead and gone, but Cas still has a few things to tell him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Skin Stars

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic. Any constructive criticism is appreciated.

You died a hero’s death, quick and messy, fighting until the very end. Your body was in ribbons, but your eyes were open, staring up at the stars the same way I studied the constellations on your cheeks. Those eyes could start and finish wars all on their own; did anyone ever tell you that?

People sometimes say that eyes are windows to the soul, and looking at yours, I can certainly see where that came from. They shone the way your soul did when I held it, humming, in my hands. Clean and pure and just a little bit tired. I always sensed that you thought of yourself as a broken thing, but I never did understand why. You made your mistakes, as your kind does, but that soul of yours, that life? It could not have been farther from broken.

You were bravery personified. You were the beacon of hope that made rebellion worth it. When my own family couldn’t stand to look at me, you were there. Dean Winchester, I watched my Father carve mountains and fill oceans and raise humanity from dust, but you, YOU, were the most brilliant thing I ever got to see.

My greatest accomplishment was that vessel I crafted for you. I couldn’t bring myself to give you a proper hunter’s funeral; it would have felt like destroying a priceless work of art. You were, you know. A work of art. I don’t believe I’ll ever forget it. I’ve memorized it all, stored it away for my eternity without you. Those skilled hands, the soft hills of your hips, that gleaming smile that made me wish I was human, just so that I could die alongside you someday.

I have no regrets about you, Dean. I hope you knew that. Not my journey into hell, not my own kind’s rejection, none of it. Because when you finally kissed me, I saw my Father’s face for the first time in millennia. And I knew I was home.


End file.
